For Nothing
by Marcelee
Summary: The short story of an Alliance commander leading her forces in the Plaguelands in their mission to prepare defenses near Light's Hope Chapel against the Lich's forces and the early Ebon Blade. Takes place during the War against the Lich King.


She was back in the Plaguelands, leading her battalion of soldiers in their mission to defend both the Scarlet and Argent crusades, the last targets of the Lich's forces. His forces had completed their previous quests, destroying the small towns of Havenshire and New Avalon before turning on Light's Hope. There had been several close battles that had preceded the incident, and the battle for the mighty Chapel would indicate who was likely to emerge victorious from the gruesome war that had raged on for the past three years.

"Commander Nelthurion," a voice sounded, as a head peeked into her tent. She peered at the source, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness. After a moment, she was able to recognize both the face and voice as her second-in-command, Chief Jacobs.

"Something's happened.." He continued, his voice solemn. The end of his sentence trailed off, and she knew that whatever had inevitably gone wrong was not something to be taken lightly.

"That's awfully vague, don't you think?" She grumbled, getting up from her brief moment of "rest" and pulling on her boots and gauntlets. She took care of her appearance, always ensuring that she looked her role. Her crimson, barely-rusted gold, and muddied-white armour was something that she took pride in and wore with pride despite its signs of wear, a sign of her combat experience and her years of battle training.

She stepped out of her tent, pushing the darkened, torn fabric aside as she did so. Her eyes skimmed across the camp, searching for any signs of trouble, but were met with nothing. The camp seemed emptier than ever. The usual bustling of horses and grumbles of her men were now replaced with a haunting, eerie silence that seemed to be suffocating. The usual smells of miserable rations and sweat were now overpowered by a stench that choked her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself having to force deep breaths while inhaling the smell of _death_ that reeked around her. Putrid, rotting flesh, and stale blood lingered in the air. Her heart leapt into her throat as the question came to mind.

 _What the hell happened here?_

"Jacobs, what is this?" She turned around to her right-hand, feeling herself growing uneasier by the minute, but doing her best to maintain her composure.

He stared emptily at her, wanting to provide some sort of explanation, but had nothing.

"I asked you _WHAT HAPPENED._ Answer me." She prompted him once more, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

"I don't know, Commander. I got up a minute ago to use the latrine and found it like this..." He answered, his voice still shaky.

She took a second to take in his response, her mind now racing with uncertainty. _Who did this? Had he found them? How could you not have noticed? This is all your fault. You were supposed to protect them…_

She tensed up, her right hand tightening its grip around the hilt of her quickblade, and her left now raising her shield tentatively yet confidently. She crouched down and began inching forwards, assuming a stance that would prepare her had she any sudden need to engage in combat. She solemnly crept past each of the tents that had hous- once housed her men, until she reached the edge of the camp. Her eyes stared out into the open space of the clearing, carefully scanning the land. She had noticed that there was something strange about the entire area upon their first arrival, but had brushed it aside as it was her orders to establish their camp there. The land had a strange ginger tint to it, almost as if someone had painted the forest solely of orange hues. Even the barren, empty trees seemed to have this strange, darkened hint of orange in their bark.

A sound.

It was the tiniest snap of a twig that alerted her to his presence. She whipped around, presenting her shield and raising her sword in the direction of the noise.

"Who goes there? Show yourself immediately!" She called out, her voice stern and authoritative.

The sound of the horse came before it arrived. A monstrous beast now presented itself, and towered a good couple of feet before her. Her eyes were first drawn to the beast's hooves. Where one might expect to see the bulging muscles of a strong horse, the skin appeared to have been torn off and sliced apart. The legs glowed a ghastly electric blue, and the thick bones were visible if one stared. Her eyes trailed upwards, eventually fixating upon the horse's ride. On its back, rode a figure covered head-to-toe in dark plate armour. His gear was adorned with his spoils of war, shattered bones and small skulls decorated his spaulders, and his helm ended with dark spikes and shards protruding from it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared up at him, but her stance remained steady and firmly grounded. "Step down and fight me, you coward. You slaughter my men in their _sleep_ , you attack your enemies when they cannot fight back, and you mercilessly annihilate the innocents. I will not stand idly by and let you do this to my men, to my people…" She said, her voice shaky at first, but strengthening and sounding more confident with every word. "My king sent me to fight you, to destroy you, and I will obey his orders to my last breath."

A strange sound seemed to escape the man, as he dismounted from the gargantuan beast, and she recognized it after a second as _laughter_. She clenched her sword tighter, determined not to back down. Her eyes watched as both of his arms reached up to his head, then slowly removed his helm, carelessly casting it aside. She gulped as she immediately recognized his face - his glowing, sunken eyes, the malicious grin that had spread across his face, and the pale, long white hair that framed his face.

Darion Mograine - one of the Lich's highest commanders, notorious for his brutality.

He stepped before her, unwielding his own weapon, a large, silver, broadsword with unfamiliar runes emblazoned into its length. The symbols seemed to emit a blue light, similar to that of his horse, and glowed with power.

His lips twisted briefly, then let out a high-pitched whistle that tore through her eardrums, leaving her wincing. She paused for a moment, confused, before she heard them. The thundering sound of hoofbeats from his direction, sounding like the beating of hundreds of war drums. It lasted for less than a minute before she was introduced to the source. Hundreds of horses lined up in ranks behind him. She glanced to either side of him, her heart plummeting as she estimated the numbers. It sunk further, when her eyes locked onto the face of one of the troops, then the rest.

These were her men. But… they were different. They were _wrong_. The once healthy faces of her men were now sunken and pale, a greenish hint barely noticable in their skin.

"First of all, _Commander,_ " his gruff, twisted voice sounded, mocking her title as she spoke. "Your 'King' sent you here for no other reason than to _die._ He used you as bait, as a trap to lure me out."

She stared at him, refusing to believe his words.

"No.."

She muttered, raising her sword to prepare to attack him.

"Yes, actually," He responded carelessly, a tone in his voice conveying his enjoyment to her. "He needed a way to get me out, so the _real_ soldiers could come out and fight. You are _nothing_ more than bait in his elaborate scheme. Your loyalty, your dedication, your _death_ will be NOTHING."

She charged at him immediately, her sword tightly gripped in one hand. She slashed wildly at him, aiming for any part of him she could hit.

 _He would never just use me like that...He would never betray us._

"You know i'm speaking the truth," Mograine continued, taunting her as he dodged her attacks.

She grew more furious with each word, her vision beginning to become red as she continued her onslaught of attacks. One shot caught him, managing to pierce through his armor, and getting stuck in the flesh. She found herself unable to remove the sword, and now he seemed to be angrier than ever. He turned on her rapidly, no longer playing with her. His sword came crashing towards her, faster than she could process. She turned her head at the last second to watch his blade effortlessly pierce through her armor and upper torso before she suddenly felt the pain, and then nothing. She stared in horror at the blade for only a second, watching as he twisted it around and then pulled it out, before tumbling to the ground, her vision fading to black.


End file.
